


Drowning In Air

by RitaMordio



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-21 15:55:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15561264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RitaMordio/pseuds/RitaMordio
Summary: >>READ ACOFAS BEFORE READING THIS OR EVEN THE SUMMARY<<Nesta finds herself forced to go to another of her sister's parties, this one at end of Summer on a rented barge.  What could possibly go wrong?Alternative summary: "How Nesta gets kicked out of the Night Court"One-shot.  Technicalllllllly Nessian, but if you've read ACOFAS, you also know what that means.  All characters belong to the best author on the planet (Sarah J. Maas).





	Drowning In Air

_Give in._

The phrase crossed Nesta’s mind as she gasped in another barest of breaths, immersed in liquid of pure darkness and struggling to find balance. The Cauldron had come back for her.

_You haven’t had a visitor in months, and yet look how you tear your family apart. Give in, make them whole again._

The words struck her like a firework, expanding and consuming her thoughts as she fought her environment in instinctive panic. She opened her mouth to retort, only to find the liquid rush down her throat, the pressure crushing her from within.

_They don’t care about you anyway, Nesta. Not like you care about them. And I can do quite...dangerous things to them._

Anger swelled inside her, though she felt more and more of her strength dwindling. This was the first time it had used her name since it had found her again, strengthening its power in her on that gods-forsaken beach. The very sound reviled her.

_NEEEEESSTA._

Her name resounded more forcefully this time through the endless echo of the Cauldron, and she inhaled sharply as she pooled her all in one last attempt to push back.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“NESTA.”

Nesta awoke with a start, throwing her elbow in defense and landing with a satisfying crunch.

“What the—what the hell is wrong with you?” 

Nesta’s vision came into view as she shoved herself back against the corner of her headboard and gripped the wall to her left. Her headboard...gods she was in her bed. Still breathing hard, she warily looked up to see a young, very naked Fae male staring wide-eyed at her from the other end of the bed and gripping the base of his mouth, a small bit of blood oozing through his fingers. His eyes met hers, a fear shining through with no small amount of judgment interlaced within. The vision made her stomach wrench enough that she almost wished her nightmare hadn’t ended.

Almost.

“Are you oka--”

“Get out.” Her voice was commanding, if a bit shaky, as his expression turned to incredulity. Sensing a coming reply and not wanting to deal with some irksome random male right now, she cut him off before he had the chance. “ _GET_. _OUT_.” She scrambled to the other side of her bed, grabbing his clothes from the floor and tossing them forcefully at him one by one.

His eyes narrowed as he struggled to catch them all, unfortunately watching helplessly as one sock took a tumble out the window behind him, but he begrudgingly threw them on as he left her bedroom. And that might have been the last of him, had her Fae hearing not distinctly picked up a muttered “bitch” as he fumbled with her locks.

Shit. Her locks. She sighed in annoyance as she followed, pushing him aside and hovering her hand over the catch tied to her blood. “For the record, I was just as much of one last night.” A loud click rang through the apartment as she slid the bar across. “But you didn’t seem to mind as much then, did you?”

He only spared her the briefest of glances as he sprung the door open and rushed out of the apartment, barely missing returning her earlier blow as the door glided just past Nesta’s chin.

“Asshole.” Nesta stifled a few more curses under a groan as she slumped her back against the door, letting the weight of her body close it for her. Her breathing was still ragged and strenuous, consuming most of her attention just to maintain it. She closed her eyes and moved her arm up slightly to push the locks back into place, leaning against them to remain standing. She was going to have a rough day. 

Taking a deep breath, she slumped down in her door-side chair, her fingers circling the tears in its cloth in anxious rotations as her still-bare body protested against the harsh material. Her memories from the previous night were slowly returning, albeit in patches, and she tried to focus on those as much as possible to serve as a distraction from the morning’s events.

She remembered meeting the male the night before. His short, blond hair and blue eyes had looked particularly inviting under the influence of the drinks she had already put down. His tone had been full of innuendo, his gaze bearing no attempt to hide its location. He was vulgar, emotionally distant, and every bit different than that blasted Illyrian. And that was exactly what she had needed last night, especially with today involving that dreadful “end-of-Summer party” her youngest sister had demanded her attendance at.

_The end-of-Summer party._

Suddenly alert again, she sprung forward in her chair to peer past her drapes, wincing as her muscles strained at the movement. The sun was already past overcast, indicating late afternoon. She would be expected in an hour or two at this point; gods, she was going to need a miracle. She breathed out again, braced herself, and shoved the morning’s happenings into that small, familiar corner of her mind, full of similar mornings that needed to be ignored, never to be touched again.

She jumped out of the chair and moved quickly to her wardrobe. Today, she just needed to focus on functioning; the last thing she needed was more scrutiny from Feyre or, gods forbid, any of the other members of that detestable Inner Circle of hers. Nesta knew she wasn’t stable enough to handle the party, but...she also knew from all-too-familiar experience what would happen to her if she lost her income. And that was an unacceptable outcome right now. No, her health could come later, after she put in the required time at this dismal party of her sister’s. 

Not that focusing on her health would matter anyway – she had tried during the war, barely making any dent over months of work while taking on far deeper baggage. The idea of eternally drugging her immortal body out of function...it devastated her, but it had been her final realization after the events of the war. There was no out, no end to this madness, only delay. Delay until the darkness of the Cauldron finally consumed her. So, until that day brought her miserable life down with it, she was going to spend each night giving herself whatever release she needed to stave her powers off, one day at a time. To prevent them from interfering with her further.

As for the party, she wasn’t quite sure why Feyre bothered to invite her to begin with. She knew very well that Feyre had a strong sense of familial obligation, the same that had drawn her to keep them from starving so many moons ago and that had led to Nesta getting this very apartment. But it’s not like Nesta was exactly welcome at these parties. 

No one in Velaris but Elain had really cared to visit her, and since she could sense the irritation from the others when she was around them, she sure as hell wasn’t visiting any of them. Amren was the only person who could stomach her enough to make such a visit worth it. And, as far as the village idiot was concerned, he had refused to say so much as a word to her since the Winter Solstice. Though...at least that change had been a welcome one.

Her hands sifted through the silk fabric of one of her hung-up dresses. It used to be one of her favorite dresses, as it reminded her of her former life. It didn’t hurt that the grey color matched quite well with her eyes, either. Now, though, it was simply one of the few items not on the floor, which meant it was simply her default choice for the party. While there was a faint wine stain near the shoulder, she could probably hide it with the scarf Elain had given her. She wished she had remembered in time so she could have bought a new dress for this party, but this dress would at least get her through the night without too many questions. Yes, this dress would work.

Pursing her lips in apprehension at the evening before her, Nesta took one last look at the afternoon sky and began to get ready.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Feyre, I don’t think this is a great idea--”

“I’ll let you know, Cassian--” Cassian suppressed a scowl at his High Lady’s tone as she turned to face him. “--if I ever want your opinion about how I should handle my own sister. If you want to continue letting her wallow in her own misery, then that’s your choice. But she needs social interaction, and I’ve been giving her space for literal _months_. This is the first time since the Winter Solstice that I’ve asked for her attendance at anything.”

“Social interaction can’t be forced. It’s not ‘asking’ when you’re tying her rent--”

“Do I need to repeat myself?” Feyre’s eyes lit up in a commanding glare as she cut him off. And certainly, in spite of all the foes Cassian had faced in his centuries of existence, he still found himself unnerved by that piercing look of hers, the same one that was shared by a certain other Archeron sister. Though...he didn’t mind that one as much, even if he hadn’t seen it in quite some time. He shook his head; this wasn’t the right time for these thoughts. He banished the image before it could fester.

Misreading his discomfort, Feyre softened her expression and went back to setting up furniture on the deck of the barge they had rented for the party. “We’ve been over this many... _many_ times, Cassian. She’s clearly not alright, not coping at all, and not doing anything to help herself. At some point, the issue’s going to have to be forced. And if my sister won’t let herself heal, then I’m the one who has to make her start the process.”

“But it’s not your right to do so.”

Cassian cursed internally. The words had tumbled out of his mouth before he could catch himself, and he doubted this conversation was going to end as hoped now. Indeed, they had the anticipated effect on Feyre as she spun on her heels, her face flushing in anger and her hands raising to her hips.

“Oh? Then whose is it? Nesta’s, when she keeps herself so intoxicated on substance and sex that she barely retains any connection to the real world? _Yours_ \--” She spit out the word in disapprobation. “--when you idly sit back and do nothing out of some corrupted idea of respect, supporting my sister’s self-destructive behavior?” His rejoining grunt was anything but friendly. A low blow, especially coming from Feyre. “No, I think I do quite have the right to help my sister when she needs it, but thanks for your input, Cassian.”

Fuming, she turned away from him dismissively and got back to work. “Mor and Elain need help bringing in the decorations we ordered; I’m sure you can spend a far more productive time aiding them instead. I’ll see you tonight.”

He didn’t need to be told twice; his wings were outstretched before he even made it to the outer deck.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Trying to ignore the blinding streetlights of early evening Velaris, Nesta strained her eyes to absorb the entirety of the end-of-summer party, which her sister had apparently appropriated several blocks along the Sidra for, in addition to their boat. She rolled her eyes at the extravagance – and the Inner Circle said _she_ wasted their reserves. 

Though...to be fair to Feyre, knowing Rhys, the idiot had probably pushed her sister into going this far, talking about how it was “good for the city” or some other artificial reason just to get her to be comfortable spending the money. She frowned at the thought of seeing him tonight. She might respect and support Feyre’s relationship with him, but that didn’t mean she had to like the guy. She certainly hadn’t liked Tamlin either, but Rhys actually went out of his way to actively foment discord with her, and she gladly reciprocated.

Ever since their first meeting, he had put in very little effort to speak with either Elain or her, and she could see the disdain dripping from his eyes whenever they had the misfortune to lock stares. And it didn’t escape her notice that he didn’t dare share _that_ particular look with her sister. But then, Elain had agreed to play pretend, living in blissful denial as part of their “crew” instead of understanding their true place in this world. Elain would rather see herself as human than accept she was permanently changed into... _them_ , and Rhys didn’t care how either of them felt, not truly; all he cared about was maintaining his culture of harmony for the Inner Circle.

But...at least he treated Feyre well. That was about the only good thing she would say about him, but it was enough to keep her from unnecessarily picking fights. Her sister still hadn’t told her exactly what had happened with Tamlin – not that she cared, really – but Rhys did seem to make her sister much happier than him. Plus, Rhys and Nesta more or less had a silent, mutual agreement to stay as far as possible away from each other, which worked out for both their interests. Though, who knew whether that agreement would stand tonight, as it had at the Solstice so many months ago.

She sighed. Thinking about Rhys already made her want to leave the party, and she still hadn’t even technically “attended” yet. After dallying in her apartment as long as she felt she reasonably could, she had run out of most of her options to stall the night. In addition, she had no idea how long she would have to maintain her presence, whether she’d have to stay into the early hours to play it safe like she did on the Solstice. The thought of spending another whole night avoiding drinks and engaging in small talks to appear more stable was absolutely repugnant, but she also needed to make sure she did the minimum necessary to ensure she could buy herself a few more months. Maybe she could sneak onto the barge at the end of the party and claim to have been there the whole time...

“Nesta!!”

Nesta let out a soft curse and grimaced; so much for that plan. She steeled herself, feeling Elain crash into her right arm moments later and turning towards her sister with as much of a smile as she could force.

“You ended up coming!” Elain returned a smile, albeit likely a far more genuine one, and her eyes sparkled against her mint green sundress in the evening light. If Nesta was grateful for any of the post-war outcomes, it was that Elain’s liveliness had been untouched. “Mor and I are the last ones to show up. We were actually helping out with preparations until after the party started, so we were delayed getting ready.”

Elain gestured behind them, and Nesta turned to look over her other shoulder to see Morrigan walking towards them, each stride long and confident. Her eyes were stern and her lips were pursed at the sight of Nesta; the look struck a haunting tone in combination with her luxurious floor-length dress, the gown deep-black satin with high slits on each side to accentuate her long legs. Mor opened her mouth to speak, but Elain quickly cut her off.

“Let’s go meet up with the others.” Elain’s smile dipped a bit as clear uncertainty filled her eyes in anticipation of Nesta’s reaction. Or...perhaps Elain was reacting to Morrigan brushing past the two of them towards the Sidra’s boardwalk without a second glance. Interesting; it seemed Mor’s feelings had morphed even further into those of Rhys. She’d have to keep that in mind.

“Okay?” Nesta’s attention snapped back to Elain standing beside her, that tight grip still held on her right arm, her eyes pleading for a response. Nesta faintly nodded, her lips a thin line of reluctance.

“Alright.”

“Excellent!” Her smile growing, Elain tugged on her arm, and Nesta begrudgingly followed her sister down the path Mor had just taken. Elain tugged closer to her body, and her sister’s voice dipped into a whisper as they walked. “Listen, Nesta, I know you don’t want to be here, but we’ll have fun – I promise. I’ll make sure you can spend most of your time away from the Inner Circle, and I’ll stick with you and keep you company if you want. Whatever you need tonight; just like the Solstice.” 

Nesta exchanged a knowing look with her sister but nodded again. Even so, her eyes soon found themselves trailing along the cobblestone path, her ears tuning out as Elain rattled on about the different stores along the Sidra riverbank. Elain was too good, too pure of a sister to have. Nesta was certainly glad her sister had found peace, even if it was in someone else’s family. She just wished...it hadn’t meant losing her sister, losing...whatever this was between them.

She only got to see Elain alone a few times a month since the war ended, and her spontaneous visits had been decreasing over time, no doubt due to the influence of the third member of that blasted Illyrian trio. She didn’t blame her sister though. Gods above knew Nesta would not enter that fake world of Feyre’s, would not pretend to be a member of their merry crew of misfits and narcissists. So she could not condemn Elain for not wanting to enter her world, either.

 _Slosh, slosh, slosh_.

The sound of the Sidra’s clear waters beside them caught Nesta’s attention as they neared the barge, the soft swishing of the water a constant rhythm in the air. Did Feyre have to have her party on the river...? Nesta had forced herself to tolerate bathing over time, but...tolerating was not the same as being comfortable, and the Sidra was quite a bit larger than a bathtub. It was just one night, though, she told herself as she averted her eyes back to the street. Just one night.

“Nesta?” Nesta’s head snapped back to Elain at her sister’s soft mention of her name and noticed she had stopped the two of them in place. She tensed, but Elain didn’t wait for a response, gesturing behind Nesta towards the river as she continued speaking. “You know...even when I finally moved to the townhouse, I couldn’t come here for months. The water...” She trailed off, looking back up at Nesta. “This was a mistake, I’m sorry. This party shouldn’t have been here. Feyre wasn’t thinking. I’ll make an excuse for you; I’ll say your cycle has started.”

“No.” Elain’s eyes widened in surprise, and Nesta rolled her own. “You know that would just make Feyre drop by my apartment for the next several days with impudence.” Elain huffed in amusement, then shrugged in acceptance of her point, the worried look still plastered over her face. Nesta recognized that look – it was a mainstay of her sister’s when they had been living in the human world, spending every day wondering if their sister would make it through the war, only having each other to lean on. That expression had long ago faded from her repertoire, and she certainly wasn’t going to be the reason it was brought back. She took her sister’s hand, earning a surprised glance in response, and forced a smile. “Just one night; we’ll get through it together.” Neither of them would go through this night alone.

Elain stared at her for a few seconds, but eventually nodded, squeezing back and resuming their walk towards the dock where the barge was moored. But Nesta halted at the threshold, staring at the long, wooden beams that led to the ship’s dock.

 _Slosh, slosh, slosh_.

Her earlier commitment flew instantly from her mind as her body stood still, paralyzed by the scene before her, the flowing water of the Sidra encompassing nearly her entire vision on the open dock. In her false sense of confidence, she hadn’t realized quite what she was getting herself into, the narrow wood shrinking further in her eyes the longer she stood there. She felt a squeeze of her right hand and looked down to see Elain studying her inquisitively. Nesta moved to shake her head as a sign to leave.

“I see you made it.” Nesta inhaled sharply at Feyre’s voice behind her. This was definitely the worst possible time for her sister to show up. “Thank you.” She turned around to face her youngest sister, thankful her back was now facing the water. Even so, the sound of its current still filled her ears, a constant presence in the back of her mind, feeding off her energy. She pushed through her nausea to successfully nod.

“We were actually just checking out the set-up. We’ll be back later after we visit some of the booths the town has put together.”

“Nonsense!” Her sister came up to her and put her arm around her, spinning her vision back towards the boat and gesturing. The confined space made the nausea much worse, and Nesta forced herself to smother her body’s repulsion. Incognizant, Feyre continued. “Everyone’s already on the boat; we’ve been waiting for you. I actually went out to look for you after Mor said she passed by the two of you earlier.”

‘ _Passed by_.’ Under normal circumstances, Nesta would’ve scoffed at the notion that Mor would have used such a neutral phrase. Would’ve earned verbal retribution from her sister. But in this state, with her stomach turning and her vision beginning to blur...she only managed a cold stare. As the silence between the three of them grew more uncomfortable, Feyre breathed in and clapped her hands., that inauthentic smile of hers returning to her face.

“Alright, let’s board.”

 _Slosh, slosh, slosh_.

Nesta briefly exchanged a desperate glance with Elain, who simply returned a resigned expression as Feyre interlocked her arms with both of them and gently dragged them onto the dock. Unwilling to close her eyes in front of her sister, Nesta forced her eyes towards the boat to keep the water as far out of her peripheral vision as possible, even as each step made her sight a little whiter, her stomach a little tighter. By the time they reached the barge, she sprung aboard in panic, pushed Feyre’s grip off her arm, and spun around.

“I’m going inside.” 

Nesta didn’t wait for Feyre’s response or dare glimpse at Elain as she ducked under one of the hooded areas of the boat, cutting her view off the river outside and muffling its sound considerably. She found a chair as far from either of the exits as viable and collapsed in it, maintaining as much grace in doing so as she could to avoid questions. One night, she told herself. You can handle one night like this. Just. One. Night. Closing her eyes, she focused on her breathing, her body settling down in the contained environment.

“You’re...here.” 

Curses flashed through her mind at the sound of his voice. Gods above, of all people to find her first on this stupid boat, _he_ had to be the one to do so. She cooled her expression and opened her eyes narrowly, sharply cutting into his arrogant gaze. Cassian didn’t flinch – though he never did around her. Instead, he simply grinned, maddeningly dragging a second chair several feet over to her table and setting it down next to her.

“I wasn’t aware I offered you a seat.” The snap in her tone only widened his grin, and he spun the chair in response, straddling it backwards and leaning his body towards her.

“Agreeable as always, Nes.” Her eyes thinned even further at the nickname, and he flashed his teeth again. “Nice to see you again as well.”

She crossed her arms and studied him for a few seconds, his grin never leaving his face and his eyes never leaving hers, before deciding she could not allow this conversation to happen. It would be better this way than risk losing control, than letting... _that_ out of her. Not when she was this vulnerable. Even now, she felt it raging against her from inside, empowered by her earlier weakness and begging for another chance. No, she would kill this, whatever _this_ was, before it began. She turned her head in sharp dismissal.

“What’s it to you if I’m here, anyway? It’s not as if you’ve spoken to me in seven months.”

The cold dullness of her remarks hit its intended mark, stripping that daft smile from his face and draining the color from his cheeks. She closed her eyes and told herself she didn’t care; it was his fault, really, being this persistent. She was done playing these games of his, done being overwhelmed, done feeling destroyed around him. He could go find some other girl to mess with, to claim in front of the whole city.

“I thought you didn’t want me to.” 

Cassian’s words rang quiet and hollow, echoing through the small room in the deathly silence. His arrogance was nowhere to be found, locked away and lost with the rest of their former repartee. But it didn’t matter to her. It wouldn’t matter to her. She wouldn’t, couldn’t care.

“You’re right.” Nesta sharply stood up, her heels straining the wood planks in the ship’s floor, and turned away from him. “I don’t.” She walked past his chair, pretending she didn’t notice his eyes drilling a hole into the wall where she’d been sitting moments before. Pretending a deep, hidden part of her didn’t feel the wound she’d sliced open with her words. She’d managed several strides before she heard him speak, softly enough only she could hear.

“Whatever’s wrong...let me help, Nesta. Let me in.” A short pause. “Please.”

The strain in his voice brought her feet to a standstill, her hands tightly gripped at either side. Her instincts roared at her to fight him, curse at him, tell him to leave her alone once and for all. But, deep down, she felt that danger, the permanence in those unspoken words, and so they never reached her tongue. Instead, she allowed his words to wreck her further, shoving them deep down into her core and sparing him the pain of her response.

She wasn’t sure why she made the effort, honestly; she hated all he represented, how her worst came out around him, how a few quips, a grin, and a wink could make her say and do all kinds of vicious things she normally kept bottled inside. Around him, the death inside her found its escape into the real world, infecting everyone around her. She couldn’t trap it, couldn’t keep it caged in her soul as she needed to. She was poison, and he was her conduit. No, he would not, could not be part of her life any longer. For anyone’s sake.

She walked away the second she heard his chair scrape against the surface of the barge. 

He didn’t follow.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Evening had turned to night, but Nesta had found her quiet corner in the storage room, thankfully tarped off from the wind and noise outside. She’d managed to get through whatever fake pleasantries she’d had to conjure up for most of the night, and she finally had reached the final stretch of the party. Having holed up here earlier that night, she wished she’d brought a book to read, as she’d already been sitting here for well over an hour. Still, being in this remote corner was preferable to what laid in wait outside. She sighed and leaned her head back against the piping holding the tarp up, closing her eyes.

“Well, someone looks like hell.” 

Her eyes bolted open, warily observing the small woman standing at the entrance of the storage room, twirling the stir stick in her champagne glass. Nesta didn’t respond, and Amren chuckled.

“I’m fairly certain this isn’t what Feyre meant when she asked you to attend this party.” Amren took a sip of her champagne and smiled. “But I suppose you’ve found your latest technicality, so brava.”

“I’m not in the mood.” Amren’s eyes shone with amusement in response.

“Are you ever? And yet here I am, still sending Varian off early to catch a few minutes with you before we berth.” A smirk lined her face. “I’d expect a little more appreciation from you, especially after that disastrous stunt you pulled with Cassian.”

“ _Don’t_.” Nesta’s resultant growl only strengthened Amren’s smirk, and the Second let out a short huff.

“Did you know that Rhys and Azriel had to restrain him from leaving earlier?”

“I don’t care.” Nesta stood up roughly, barely avoiding hitting the piping that extended above her head and earning another laugh from Amren. She glared harshly at the woman. “Speaking of leaving, however, I should have done so already myself.” She had only taken a step towards the storage room’s exit, however, when Amren’s prior comments fully processed in her mind. “Wait...” Nesta turned her head cautiously towards Amren. “What did you mean by ‘ _berth_ ’? We’re already docked.”

“Rhys and Feyre decided to do a tour of Velaris along the Sidra for the passengers. I’m not surprised you’re so oblivious, though, after locking yourself away in this tent of solitude of yours.” Amren looked disapprovingly at the dirty engineering equipment strewn around the room as she spoke.

The words slowly hit Nesta, as nausea began to fill Nesta again at the realization she couldn’t disembark if she needed to. Why hadn’t anyone warned her? In a rash moment of alarm, she stormed past Amren to the outer deck and looked out at the river winding ahead in both directions, the dock nowhere in sight.

 _Slosh, slosh, slosh_.

It was at this moment that Nesta realized she had made a fatal mistake. The moment she hit the deck, the sound of the rushing water had flooded her senses again, and, taking advantage off her panic, the power inside her had flared. Unable to hold it back for long, she faintly heard Amren talking to her far off in the distance before collapsing on the deck.

 _Slosh, slosh, slosh_.

Consumed by the noise, she crawled towards the railing and looked out at the river, her anxiety spiking at the sight. The clear, blue waters of the Sidra were slowly turning a black, matte coating, spreading in all directions from the boat. No, no, no. This couldn’t be happening. Not now. She turned to shout for help…

...and found nobody else on the boat. In fact, the tarps had all disappeared, and the surface of the boat had shrunk considerably around her, no longer much larger than a rowboat. She screamed for aid, searching the shoreline for any partygoers, but the riverside had seemingly emptied as well. With no one to help and with no powers to draw from, as they were busy consuming the boat to begin with...she was utterly weaponless. She had no way to stop the deck from shrinking. She threw obscenities at the power leaking from the boat and leaned back against the railing behind her.

...and fell backwards through thin air, plunging headfirst into the blackening Sidra as her eyes widened at the blank space where the railing used to be.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 _Slosh, slosh, slosh_.

 _Slosh, slosh, slosh_.

Nesta spun in the black waters below, falling deeper and deeper as pools of air swirled around her. Her consciousness drifted in and out as her descent slowed, finally culminating with a soft impact on the riverbed below. She pushed herself on her hands, groaning in pain from the impact with the water. Her eyes popped open at the realization she could breathe, and she slowly lifted her head to gauge her surroundings, eyes widening at the horror that circled her.

She was in a small, spherical air pocket, surrounded by what seemed to be an endless number of black, oily hands, all pushing the air pocket that surrounded her further and further inward and reaching for her as she lay on the floor of the Sidra. She sat up, staring at her imminent fate, and began to scream at the hands.

“I OFFERED TO GIVE YOU BACK YOUR STUPID POWER. HE...YOU LET HIM...LEAVE ME ALONE!!!” Sobs broke through her yelling, and she curled herself as far to the center of the pocket as possible. Her lifeline was compressing rapidly, and she dug her head into her knees at the inevitability of her predicament, knowing she only had seconds left before they reached her.

“Nesta.”

Her breathing stopped at her name, and she snarled in anger. Even if it killed her, even if it finally took its power back...she was not going to give up her dignity. Using her name...she raised her head to give it hell in her last moments. 

But...the hands had been paralyzed in place. Instead, the air pocket seemed to have started glowing and was slowly expanding cylindrically upwards. She jumped in vain, trying to rise with the air pocket towards the surface, when she heard the voice again.

“Nesta!”

Already looking towards the surface, her breath hitched again as she realized she had been wrong. The Cauldron hadn’t been the one speaking to her, calling her name. She didn’t have long to process the vision in front of her, though, as blue water flooded into her pocket the moment it broke the surface. Rapidly lifted off the seabed by the sudden current, she choked down water and hurriedly held her breath before the pocket filled completely.

Nesta dug into herself to kick herself upward off the seabed floor, though the current of flowing water was still somehow impossibly pouring downward against her movements. Her lungs, filled with water, were burning for air, and the glow of the cylinder was fading with each stroke. But she kept pushing, fighting, crawling through the resistance of the water, foot by foot, inch by inch. 

She was a hand’s length from the surface when the pocket stopped glowing.

Nesta witnessed the hands resume pushing against the pocket, the bottom rapidly rising from the seafloor, and frantically pushed for the surface. Her vision nearly blacking out, she pooled her determination to kick one last time, feeling something brush against her foot just as she shoved herself through the plane of the water. 

She only had a brief moment to gasp in a full breath of air before a wave of black lightning struck through her, and her body gave way to darkness.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“We have to pull the trigger.” Feyre crossed her arms and looked mournfully at the members of the Inner Circle she had hastily been able to assemble after the party. “I know most here have been opposed, myself included until tonight...but who knows how many more tonights we will have in the future if she continues to get worse.”

“I’m sure there’s a better place we could send her, though, Feyre...” Elain softly spoke from one of the library’s soft chairs that she was sitting in, her gaze firmly poring into the floor. “Why not ask one of the other Courts to house her for now? She might need a change of scenery. And she really should have a more experienced medical staff on-hand if something like this happens again.”

“Any Court that would be willing to take Nesta right now is not a Court that would have her best interests in mind.” Feyre tightly squeezed her hands into fists at her sides as her eyes became troubled. “And our best options, the Dawn and Winter Courts, already declined seven months ago. This is the only route we have left to take. It’s the only place where she can escape whatever’s causing her to collapse into this behavior.” She sighed deeply. “We don’t even know how to help her. Amren was able to get our attention this time, but what if someone isn’t around when the next ‘this time’ happens?”

“I don’t see why she has to go with Cassian at all.” Amren cupped an ice pack against her eye as she interjected, rage laced throughout her expression. “Just kick her out and let her fend for herself in the real world.” Cassian started, but Feyre quickly jumped in to try to tamp down tension.

“Amren, I know you’re angry that she hit you in that...‘fit’...of hers, but she had to be forced unconscious by Rhys so Madja could heal her. She wasn’t remotely in the right state of mind.”

“If I hadn’t known that,” snapped Amren, “I would’ve enjoyed knocking her unconscious myself.” Her eyes sharply narrowed. “But she’s still a danger to everyone here, especially with those dormant powers of hers that she still has yet to tell any of us about.” Amren completed her comments with a scowl that dared anyone to address her again that night. Not willing to test her, Feyre turned to Cassian instead, strongly imploring to him with her tone.

“Are you okay with taking her to the Mountains?” 

Cassian didn’t reply initially, instead staring down Amren for a long moment of silence. Finally, he softly let out a single word.

“No.” 

Audible groans filled the room from Amren and Rhys, and his tone took a defensive edge. “Give her a chance. Let her realize how bad things have gotten for her. See what she does with the opportunity to fix them, knowing what happened. Knowing how dangerous it can get for her.”

“She’s already had hundreds of chances, Cassian.” Rhysand’s voice boomed through the room in irritation. “One more isn’t going to change anything. She needs help.”

“Not like this!” Cassian gritted his teeth and both males’ wings instantly flared in confrontation. “Everyone here – EVERY SINGLE ONE of you here--” His voice reeked of desperation even as he forced all of his emotions into his tone. “--has dealt with personal trauma. How would any of you have felt if people had meetings like this about you? How would you two have felt if we hadn’t given Feyre time to breathe? If we’d declared her a ‘danger’ based on her power bursts in the Spring Court?” He looked Rhys and Feyre directly in the eyes and paused for a short while, the room deathly quiet at the sheer insolence in his words. When he spoke again, his voice was ragged and exhausted, and his wings and eyes slowly dipped towards the floor. “Give her one more opportunity. ...Please. For me.”

Loud, heavy silence filled the room once again, and Rhys and Feyre exchanged glances and what were assuredly hidden words for what felt like an eternity to Cassian. Finally, Rhys turned to him and spoke softly but firmly.

“...fine. She gets one more opportunity. But if she does _anything_ even the _slightest_ bit out of line or shows _any_ sign of another outburst like today, I want your word, here and now, that you’ll take her to the Mountains the next day.” Cassian rose his eyes to Rhys’s in response, locking their gazes together.

He had no choice but to nod.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

** A Few Weeks Later **

Nesta roughly fished through the dresses on her floor, trying to find something to use for the night. She hadn’t been able to show her face since hitting Amren in whatever sort of daytime nightmare she was in at the summer party, but she was going to force herself to go out tonight. She had to leave her apartment, get away from this hell she was living. She had to go as hard as she possibly could.

She had already reserved a room at one of the nicest pleasure clubs in the area under her sister’s name, with instructions to set up a cards table for her. In addition, she hoped the alcohol binging might finally bring her the slumber she’d been missing ever since the incident at the party...or at least bring her a chance to forget those memories, even if for a moment.

She closed her eyes. Every bit of that experience still shook her to the core: the helplessness at being completely unable to protect herself, the worry that next time she might bring somebody else down with her. This blackness...this ‘death’ in her soul was like a rapidly evolving virus, consuming more and more of her every day that passed, eating her body, her mind, and everything else about her, with no way for her to fight back. And the night on the barge had done nothing but accelerate its feeding.

She shook her head and kept sifting through dresses. No matter what she tried to do, she couldn’t forget about that day, about those few minutes. And the worst part, the very worst part was that she hadn’t even cared if she survived. She had just given up, agreed to let it eat away the rest of her, agreed to give it her life, lacked the will to struggle. The only reason she had fought back, had determined herself to survive that nightmare was because of that stupid vision that popped into view. That stupid voice. That stupid image.

...that stupid brute, crying over her as Amren had her pinned to the deck. Calling for her as her chest lay dormant.

She slumped her head onto the ground, crying for the umpteenth time that month before grabbing a dress randomly from the pile and rushing through preparations for the night.

**Author's Note:**

>  
> 
> **Author’s Note on Nesta**  
> 
> 
>   
>  So my original theory for Nesta/Amren’s fight was that she snapped from her PTSD when at the party with Amren and that she wasn’t even aware of what she was saying/doing to Amren. I personally don’t think she would ever risk throwing away her only non-Elain friendship for nothing. So I wanted to make a fanfiction about that summer barge argument that was talked about at the end of ACOFAS, and it turned into a sort of...exploration of her powers in the meantime.
> 
> In addition, I think that no one in the entire city other than Elain, Cassian, and Amren really give her a fair shot. She is actively rejecting Cassian, so he finally just decided the best thing he could do is give her space (not to mention emotionally breaking in ACOFAS when she basically tells him to get out of her life), so she really only has Elain and Amren of those three. But you can see even as early as ACOFAS how she’s meeting with Elain less and less too. 
> 
> Feyre’s ‘effort’ most of the time is meddling, which isn’t effort at all, and she doesn’t give a lot of attention to Nesta when she knows Nesta feels out-of-place at the Solstice party, even after Nesta was willing to come. Hell, Feyre doesn’t even bother to get her own sister a present despite basically forcing her to come. 
> 
> With no one else making an effort, all this means is she’s further being isolated into her trauma.
> 
> In addition, I think she knows Cassian and she have a mating bond, and I think this absolutely _kills_ her inside. I think she’s always known about the bond, as hinted at in multiple scenes in ACOWAR, but that post-war, fresh off new trauma, it makes her feel like she can no longer actually _choose_ him. Even if she dates him, it’s not of her own choice but rather the Fae world’s choice. This is extremely exacerbated by almost everyone (and I do mean everyone, even random males in Velaris) other than Cassian unfairly seeing her as Cassian’s.
> 
> Thus, she goes the other direction and actively rejects him, but the built-up feelings she has for him in conjunction with the mating bond continually remind her of said bond, making it impossible for her to escape feeling ‘trapped’ with him. I think she has a lot of sex with other guys in order to prove to herself that she can get that same feeling that she has with him with other people as well. But I also think she deeply loves him and mistakes that for the mating bond, so she errantly thinks she can’t escape the “mating bond” instead of what is really the case, that she can’t escape her own feelings (which existed even as early as Wings and Embers).
> 
> P.S. in the ‘argument’ with Amren, my headcanon for this fanfiction is that her power leaks out of her and she gets in an actual fight with Amren, using her powers without realizing it while panicking from being surrounded by water. Amren hides these from the others as a favor to her, despite being extremely angry at her and thinking she consciously initiated the fight. I have the others reaching her after Amren has successfully pinned her, with her almost unconscious and her life rapidly draining from the power leak. Nesta witnesses this herself as the black hands of the Cauldron, but the others don’t know any of this. They just think she’s overdosing on something (except for Cassian who can feel some of what Nesta is feeling), especially with Amren covering for her powers (though Amren does hint at her powers in the meeting later to try to force Feyre’s hand).
> 
> Anyways, please let me know what you think or if you think my analysis of the characters is wrong. I’m open to suggestions on how I treat the characters in the future. I am very excited for the first Nessian novel even though it’s nine-plus months away, so I just really wanted to get a fanfiction out in the meantime. (Even though it broke my heart to write about hurt Nesta :( ).
> 
> Thanks for reading <3.


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